\tIf you thought learning Chinese was hard, then pop over to the musical instrument vocabulary list for a break. All you have to remember is the suffix \u7434 (qín), and you’ll have the names of most instruments half memorized—violin is \u5c0f\u63d0\u7434 (xi\u01ceotíqín), keyboard is \u7535\u5b50\u7434 (diànz\u01d0qín) and the harmonica is \u53e3\u7434 (k\u01d2uqín). You can even use \u7434 as a shortened way of saying these instruments (\u6211\u5728\u7ec3\u7434, I’m practicing qin), which works out great until you realize that people have no idea whether you’re playing a piano, a guitar or an erhu.<\/p>\n
\tThis abuse of \u7434 didn’t appear in Mandarin until Western instruments flooded into China in the early 20th century. Before then, \u7434 only referred to one instrument: a seven-string zither that is said to be as old as Chinese history. From the 20th century onwards, the original \u7434 was redubbed \u53e4\u7434 (g\u01d4qín, gu means ancient) so that it would stand apart from the numerous other music makers that stole its name.<\/p>\n
\tSuch an ancient and respected instrument left a legacy in Chinese language aside from the lexicon of an orchestra. Out of the ten classic \u53e4\u7434 solos, the names of four of them became two well-known idioms: \u9ad8\u5c71\u6d41\u6c34 (g\u0101osh\u0101nliúshu\u01d0) and \u9633\u6625\u767d\u96ea (yángch\u016bnbáixu\u011b).<\/p>\n
\t\u9ad8\u5c71\u6d41\u6c34, “Lofty Mountains” and “Flowing Water,” are two solos said to be first composed by Bo Ya (\u4f2f\u7259), a court musician from the Spring and Autumn Period (770 B.C.-476 B.C.). Legend has it that one day, Bo Ya was playing the \u53e4\u7434 by the Hanjiang River. He thought about mountains as he played, and a woodsman named Zhong Ziqi (\u949f\u5b50\u671f) passing by exclaimed, “My goodness! What towering mountains!” Then, Bo played another melody while daydreaming about flowing water. In turn, the woodsman exclaimed, “My goodness! What torrenting rivers!” The two men swore brotherhood and promised to meet again the following Mid-Autumn Day.<\/p>\n
\tHowever, when Mid-Autumn came, Zhong didn’t show up. Bo found out that Zhong had died. He was so grieved that he destroyed his \u7434 and never played again because there was no longer anyone who understood his music. In Chinese, people call their soul mates “\u77e5\u97f3” (literally “music knower”) or use \u9ad8\u5c71\u6d41\u6c34 to describe the friendship.<\/p>\n
\t\u9633\u6625\u767d\u96ea, “The Spring Sun” and “The White Snow,” were two other solos composed around the same period of “Lofty Mountains” and “Flowing Waters,” but their composers are unidentifiable. As an idiom, \u9633\u6625\u767d\u96ea means “highbrow,” a usage that derived from an anecdote of Song Yu (298 B.C.-222. B.C.), a courtesan of the kingdom Chu who was known for his good looks and poetry. The story goes that the king once asked him, “Have you been behaving offensively? I’ve heard a lot of uncomplimentary things about you.”<\/p>\n
\tSong Yu answered with a metaphor. “Once there was a man singing in the town. At first, he sang ‘The Countryside’ (\u300a\u4e0b\u91cc\u300b) and ‘The Countryside Men’ (\u300a\u5df4\u4eba\u300b), and thousands sang with him… but when he sang ‘The Spring Sun’ and ‘The White Snow,’ only dozens sung with him. The more highbrow the song is, the fewer people sing along with it (\u66f2\u9ad8\u548c\u5be1 q\u01d4g\u0101ohègu\u01ce).”<\/p>\n
\tBecause of this story, \u9633\u6625\u767d\u96ea came to refer to “highbrow,” while \u4e0b\u91cc\u5df4\u4eba means “lowbrow.” \u66f2\u9ad8\u548c\u5be1 (highbrow music is not as popular), as Song Yu used to describe his condition, is another widely used idiom to describe the loneliness of the elite—or those who think they are elite.<\/p>\n